


Repentance: Reprise

by calysto1395



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calysto1395/pseuds/calysto1395
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't how Varric pictured their reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repentance: Reprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicagoartnerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/gifts).



This isn't how Varric pictured their reunion. 

Hawke is chained to the wall like an animal, robbed of her armour and clad in rags. The shadows nearly swallow her whole and only her red hair stands out in the dark. The thick shackles are bigger than her wrists, made out of a single piece. The ring of red blisters speak volumes on how they got her into them. Varric doesn't want to think about it, but a writer's imagination often has a mind of his own. 

"Hey, Kat." He hisses to her before he kneels down and starts to work on the lock of her cell. 

She jerks awake, blinking around unfocused until she notices him. Then her face lights up with the most beautiful smile he has ever seen, and hated to miss for so long. It's a silver lining in this dreadful place. He can't help but imagine Bethany trapped behind these walls, wilting like a flower in the dark and suddenly understands Anders’ hatred towards the place a little better. 

Varric had spend most of his life in Kirkwall without ever setting a foot in the prison they called the Circle. Yet he knows almost every way into and out of it, which is why he is here and the others are preparing their attack. They all agreed, the less people the better. Sebastian is most likely already anticipating their endeavour. 

"Varric," There is a new scar on her face that splits her right eyebrow in half, and he tries his best not to look at it too closely. "What are you doing here?” she asks, amused. 

"'Oh, thank you for coming, Varric',” he mocks her in a high-pitched voice, just as the door springs open. Piece of cake, that lock. He would have imagined Sebastian to be more cautious with someone like Hawke. 

"I sound nothing like that," She complains, her voice still raspy from sleep as he approaches her. 

"What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be at Weisshaupt?" He smiles and shakes his head at her.

She shrugs, making her chains rattle. "I left Bethany in charge. Figured an actual Grey Warden would do a better job than I." 

Her odour is the only indication he has on how long she has been here, but Varric doesn't mind, she’s smelled worse before. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, trapping her bound hands between their bodies and enjoys the feeling of her relaxing against him. Any amount of time in here is too long. A hawk should never be locked in a cage, he can't help but think. 

"Complain when we are out of here." Varric tells her as they part and inspects her wrists. There is no lock to open the shackles, neither is there one where they are connected to the chains themselves or where the chains are bolted into the wall. 

"Yeah, about that," Hawke says with a weak laugh. He can't quite find it in himself to see the humour of their situation. 

"What the fuck." he barely manages to say. Hawke shrugs.

"My fault, I broke out of the first ones he put on during my ’trial’." She actually lifts her hands to do the finger quotes and the chains scrape along the floor with her every move, a constant reminder of her plight. 

"Well, have any smart ideas how to break you out of here?" He asks while tugging on the chains, willing for the wall to give. "I knew I should have brought Merrill," He mutters when it doesn't. Or anyone else really. Bianca packs a strong punch, enough to penetrate amour, but even if he manages to hit one of the chain links without the bolt ricocheting off the smooth metal, it's doubtful that it would break it. 

"He'll kill her when he sees her, you know that." Hawke says, oddly serious all at once. Varric sighs because she’s right. Whatever Sebastian was when they knew him, he wasn't anymore, now he was some sort of twisted caricature of himself. At least the whole 'hell bent on revenge'-thing wasn't new for him. 

"As for getting out, that is clearly not happening, so you are going to leave me here. Grab Aveline and Donnic while you are at it. They are further down the hallway towards the main entrance." Hawke explains, nonchalant, and he can do little but frown at her. 

"I’m not leaving you here, Kitten." He tells her and cups her face in his hands. Maybe it's just his imagination but her cheeks feel thinner and in the pale moon light falling in from the tiny window, her beautiful brown skin looks grey. 

She rolls her eyes and leans into his touch. 

"I’m not being a martyr. They are going to hang me tomorrow and to do that they need to get me out of here first. It's easier to cut a robe than a chain." He hates how much sense she is making. That’s his job after all, hers is to be unreasonable. 

He shakes his head. "I really don't like this plan." 

Hawke grabs his hands from her face and holds onto them. They are tiny in his own, but he can feel the strength in them. He doesn't want this strength to fade away. 

"Varric, I am trying to be patient here. We both know I am terrible at it, so please don't make it harder." She says, almost begs, and there is something watery in her smile. 

"It amazes me how you can be any good with a bow." He smiles back even if he doesn't feel like it. She leans in for a kiss. 

"I would kick your ass in an archery competition." Hawke sighs against his lips. 

"Keep telling yourself that." 

"Bianca does most of the work for you." She teases. Varric is no less deadly with a common bow than with Bianca and they both know it. 

He replies by rolling his eyes and closes the gap between them. Her lips are dry and chapped and the inside of her mouth tastes terrible, yet it's still the best kiss Varric ever had. She nearly chokes him trying to get her hands in his hair and giggles when they have to rearrange themselves, before she settles her hands in her lap and lets him draw his own through her dirty hair. He ignores her slight wince when he finds a sore spot on her scalp. 

They stay for as long as they dare. 

"Off you go," Hawke says, her eyes still closed and her lips still wet. "See you at sunrise." She opens her eyes, cat-like gold in the dark. There is something desperate lingering like an aftertaste on his tongue. 

"Wouldn't miss it," He promises. It feels like a goodbye rather than a 'see you later' and Varric hates every second of it. 

"I'd hope not." Hawke says and takes a deep breath. She is being brave for both of them. 

He reaches into his hair and pulls the tie of his ponytail free before tying it around her wrist, just below the burned skin. A tangible promise for her to hold onto. He places his hand on it and she puts her own on top. 

Then he leaves her behind. Just until the morning, Varric tells himself and locks the door behind him again. 

\--

Morning comes a lot sooner than Hawke is comfortable with. The sun has barely time to cast the shadows of the bars on the wall before Sebastian and his guards arrive in front of her cell, grim faced and armed to the teeth. They enter without a word and surround her, despite the fact that she is still sitting on the same spot Varric left her last night. 

"It's time." Sebastian says. 

"What, no 'hello' or 'good morning'?" She asks as one of the guards takes a giant war axe from his back. 

"These times have passed, Champion." The guard lifts the axe and for a moment Hawke is certain he is aiming for her head. The blade splits the chain holding her to the wall instead, going through the metal like butter and denting the stone floor beneath. 

Another guard comes forward, who yanks her to her feet with the remaining chain, while three others have crossbows aimed at her. Hawke can do little more but give them all an amused glance. It's easier to put up a front then admit how scared she really is. 

"You give me too much credit," She tells Sebastian and the look of hatred he gives her hurts more than the burns around her wrists. 

"This is your last chance Hawke, because I used to call you friend. Tell me where Anders is and you are free to go." He demands, his hands folded behind his back. The armour he wears is almost exactly like the one she has known him in. Still blinding white and gold. Andraste's face has disappeared from his belt buckle however. The bow and arrows strapped to his back are a silent threat. 

"Because you used to call me friend, you should know that I don't kiss and tell." Hawke replies. Truth is, she doesn't know where Anders is. For all she cares, he could be all the way to Tevinter, it doesn't matter. Wherever he is and whatever he has done, she still hopes he is safe. That also counts for Sebastian. She once considered them both family and that hasn't changed, despite everything. 

He turns away again and the guards shield him from the daggers she stares at his back. As they bully her forward she manages to catch a glimpse into Aveline's cell, thankfully empty except a lifeless body. She realizes only after they passed that it was Donnic. Hawke blocks the image out of her mind before she can spend too much thought on it. There will be enough time to grieve once she is free. If she doesn't die, that is. 

They step outside and the sun glaring down the Gallows blinds her after the dim light of her cell. The guards leave Hawke no time to recover before they shove her onwards, towards a gibbet they built into the middle of the Gallows courtyard like a landmark. Right where Meredith's red lyrium corpse had stood. A giant crowd has gathered to see her hanged.

There is dried blood in the floorboards of the gibbet she notices it's tacky on the soles of her shoes. Most of Sebastian's henchman cut off the way they came from, forming a half circle around her as the one yanking her chain leads her right underneath the noose. 

A woman in templar armour steps up the wooded stairs from the sea of people, she shoots a look at Sebastian, who nods. The templar nods back and walks to the edge of the platform before unrolling a parchment. Someone pushes Hawke a couple of steps forward while keeping hold on her chain to keep her from diving off into the crowd. 

"Champion of Kirkwall, Lady Kathyrn Hawke of the Amells." The templar reads and Hawke hands are clammy. She searches the crowd for a familiar face, Varric, Isabela, anyone, but comes up empty. All she sees are the blighted people of Kirkwall. They don't look triumphant or happy. Just defeated. The Starkhaven people surround them along the Gallows walls just like they surround her. 

They are all prisoners here, one way or another.

"You have been found guilty of treason and sentence to death by hanging." Her heart is hammering wildly in her chest. She trusts her friends to break her out but there are thinks beyond their control that might keep them and Hawke has no idea what to do. 

She has never been more afraid. Facing down a giant spider nightmare demon had been easier than this. 

"Do you have any last words?" 

Hawke looks at the people, her people and holds her head high. 

"Well, shit,” she says, and shots a smirk over her shoulder at Sebastian. He doesn't look at her. She sees him clenching his fists but do nothing else. They drag her back under the noose and onto the trap-door. Should it even be called a trap-door when Hawke is fully aware that it's there? She wonders as a surprisingly gentle hand lays the noose around her neck and fastens it snug against her throat. 

Hawke can't keep her chest from heaving as the guards step away. Her chain lands onto the wooden floor with a clang. She can't turn around to whoever is pulling the lever that will drop her to her death but imagines Sebastian doing the honours. Her whole body is trembling and she tells herself it's the soft wind that she can feel on her body, through the thin clothes they have given her to wear and not the terror in her heart. Will the force of her fall break her neck and end it quickly or will she dangle and slowly choke to death? 

She is ready to squeeze her eyes shut and imagine a better place when she notices a shimmer among the crowd. 

It brings a grin to her face. 

A second later the floor gives away beneath her feet. 

The noose around her neck gives nothing but the hint of a tug before it just lets her fall, shot clean through by Varric's bolt. She lands just below the gibbet and falls forward on her still cuffed hands. The feeling of the noose makes her cough before Hawke has the chance to tug it off over her had and scramble onto her feet. In the same breath one of the guards lands behind her, having jumped after her through the hole. She has neither daggers nor bow, but at least Sebastian granted her something almost better. 

Hawke entwines her fingers, bringing her hands together and swings. The heavy metal of her cuffs hits the guard straight to the cheekbone and the drops like a sack of potatoes, blood coming from his face like a fountain. The chain whips around and twists her wrists with its force but Hawke was at least prepared for its weight, so that she is sure she hasn't injured herself. The platform above her trembles with the footsteps of the guards and Sebastian shouts orders at them. They are coming for her. She looks around, wondering which way is the best for her escape, back to the prison or through the crowd. Before Hawke can decide, the people in the crowd part and urge her towards them. 

She grabs her chain and runs. 

The crowd swallows her whole, parting before her and converging again behind her giving her time to run away as Sebastian's soldiers try to follow her. 

It warms her heart, to see that these are still her people. Despite everything.

She runs without a thought and lets the people guide her. They lead her off to the side alley, where Solivitus used to have his wares. Isabela and Fenris take out the guards, blocking the way just as she emerges from the crowd. The latter takes his sword to the last of her chains but stays - thankfully - away from her cuffs and her gentle wrists. 

"Took you long enough," Hawke says, ignores her own shaky voice and stretches her arms, finally able to move again. Isabela pulls her into a quick embrace before pushing a pair of daggers into her hands. Finally, Hawke feels whole again. The Starkhaven forces were ushering the crowd out of the courtyard, the chaos making it impossible for her to see Varric anywhere. 

"We had to wait for reinforcements." Fenris says and assumes his battle stance. 

Seconds later Hawke notices the soldiers marching up against the stream of civilians running down the stairs to the Gallow's port. Clad in armour with the Inquisition's crest on their chests and led by a giant qunari woman with a mage staff clasped in her hand.

"Are those the Inquisition forces?" She asks disbelieving just as Cullen joins Adaar and commands his troops. It is completely possible that she lost her mind in her few hours of imprisonment. Isabela laughs. 

"Varric has influential friends now. More influential than you at least." Isabela says and meets one of Sebastian's guard halfway, blocking his sword and jabbing her other into the gap of his armour plates, killing him instantly. 

"Well then someone’s getting laid tonight. If we make it out alive, that is." Hawke tells them and twirls her own daggers in her hands. They are not hers, not the ones she was captured with but they will work just as well. The cuffs are the real challenge, their weight throwing her off but she has fought in worse conditions before. 

"Let's focus on that last part for now," Fenris says, and decapitates another soldier with ease. 

More Starkhaven soldiers stream out from the Gallows; Sebastian's own reinforcements, meeting the Inquisition's forces without hesitation. Most of his people are templars or warriors with templar training and though the Inquisition has allied themselves with mages, they have the advantage in numbers.

"Does this seem a little déjà-vu to anyone else?" Hawke asks, dodging an arrow and cutting someone's leg open. She would really love to be in her armour right about now. Cotton clothing just doesn't do it for her in battle.

"Now that you mention it, Kitten. It does seem terribly familiar." Isabela shouts as she runs past her, aimed at someone taking aim at Adaar. 

Somewhere on the other side of the battlefield she can hear Merrill shouting murder at her enemies and then there is Aveline, her red hair is a beacon among the silver and brass of the helmets. She is back in armour, a shield and sword at her arms but all Hawke can think about is Donnic's dead body rotting away somewhere. Later, she tells herself, and cuts a woman's throat. 

The courtyard is a mess, a true battlefield. It's impossible to tell who is winning. She catches the tiniest glimpse of Varric, right next to the Iron Bull, who kicks a man half his size away like he weights nothing. 

"We need to find Sebastian!" Hawke shouts over the noise of steel against steel and meets back on back with Isabela. 

"Cut off the head." She agrees as Hawke throws one of her daggers into someone's eye. Isabela hands her another one in the same breath. It's too clustered to see much and Sebastian was smart enough to get off the only highpoint on the battlefield, her gibbet. The perfect position for an archer, but also very unprotected. Especially if most of your enemies are specialised in long-range fighting. 

She parries an axe with her dagger and feels the force vibrate all the way through her arm. It takes her much more effort to twist the woman's grip on her weapon than she is used to. Two quick cuts to her opponents hand and arm, one blow with the handle to her face and one last blade to her throat before she goes down.

"I am getting too old for this." She says to Isabela.

"You’re telling me, Kitten." 

"Stop calling me that." They bicker.

That's when the sky splits open. An enormous green rift opening right in the middle of the gallows. They can do little but stare at it. They hadn't even noticed the Inquisition forces retreating to the relative safety off the walls for Adaar to open the rift. It holds onto the Starkhaven forces, slowly sucking them in and dropping them dead like flies. And within a few seconds, the tide turns to their favour. 

"Wow," Is all Isabela can say to that as she stares at the green vortex. It's her first time seeing a rift. 

"That's so unfair. I didn't ever get to be a dragon, but they get this shit!" Hawke says as the rift closes and everyone snaps out of their daze.

At the beginning they might have been outnumbered, just herself and her odd collection of friends against the force that is Starkhaven but with the Inquisition on their side, it's less of a battle than a slaughter. 

Hawke tries to keep her people in sight, Varric most of all, who makes it especially difficult given his height and the cluster of people around them. She recognizes some Kirkwall citizens between the trained soldiers, who have taken to arms themselves to defend their home. Hawke believes to even see Athenril, slashing her daggers across someone's back before Hawke has to focus on the task at hand again. That is, not dying, and hopefully winning. 

Hawke is a good fighter, she knows it as does everyone who has heard of her. But days clad in chains and kept in a dark cell with little food and no tending to her injuries have worn on her, make her limbs slower than usual and her mind less sharp then the daggers in her hands. Her opponents get a few more lucky hits on her than she would ever allow on her own. She feels the sharp sting of pride at the strikes, but it also reminds her that she is not fighting alone. For every blade aimed at her back, there is a bolt or a perfectly aimed fireball or a strike from another sword or dagger or the protection of a shield. 

It's truly just like old times. Almost. 

The battlefield thins out before Hawke notices it. She sees her own friends, finishing off the scraps but most of all she sees Sebastian, taking shots at the Inquisition. He hasn't spotted her yet, or is avoiding looking at her. 

Hawke charges, and Sebastian notices her too late. She slams into him, shoulder first, bringing him down and she rolls over him back onto her feet. He does the same, loosing a couple of arrows on the way, but he has always been quick. 

They are both breathless and move gingerly. The fight has torn at them both. 

"Do I have your attention?" Hawke asks and twirls her knifes, more out of habit than as a threat. 

"You do." He answers.

Everything around her has gone quiet as she focuses solely on the man in front of her. If nothing else, he deserves her undivided attention. 

Sebastian and Hawke circle each other like lions. It reminds her oddly of her duel with the Arishok. Today has been quite the trip down the memory lane for her. Somehow, the stakes seem much higher today then they were these few years ago. 

"I don't want to fight you," She tells him and gives him an out. There is nothing she wants to do less than kill him. Hit him over the head a few times, yes. Maybe even draw blood. Anything but kill him. 

But he nocks an arrow and draws. "I don't either." He says, and fires. 

Hawke has always been quicker than him and she knows exactly how he fights. Always aiming for the throat for a quick kill, but an easy dodge. One step to the side, then she runs towards him at full speed. He draws once more but before he can release the arrow she is in front of him and slashes at his arm, messing up his aim. The arrow flies harmlessly into the air and Hawke drops one of her daggers to grab his bow and twist it in his hand until he is forced to let go. Her other dagger goes into his thigh, bringing him to his knees and allowing her to snatch an arrow from his quiver. 

In the end, it was never going to be much of a fight. 

She was always better than him, and they both knew it. 

The bow is Starkhaven made, she can see it in the carvings. It's not his grandfather’s bow however, she wonders where that has gone. Abandoned perhaps. 

She takes a few steps back from where Sebastian still kneels and nocks the arrow. The bow's draw weight is a little stronger than what she is used to, her arm and back muscles protest instantly under the strain. 

"Why did you do this, Sebastian?" Hawke asks. 

"Anders made it personal, and you made it personal by siding with him." Sebastian spits out. He presses one hand around her knife in his thigh and grunts when the touch hurts. 

She lets out a slow breath through her nose as the adrenaline slowly leaves her. "I didn't kill him, there’s the difference." Hawke tells him. Her arms are quivering trying to match the strength of the bow. 

Sebastian huffs and stares up into the sky. "Why are you allowed your vengeance? You got to kill the blood mage that butchered your mother." He says and glares back at her. 

"Sebastian," She starts, but doesn't get further. 

"Elthina was like a mother to me, Hawke. And you aided her murderer." Sebastian says, and there is more grief than anger in it. 

In a way, she had betrayed him that day, just like he had now and just like Anders betrayed all of them. None of them are innocent here. They have chosen their sides and were just unfortunate enough to be on opposite ends. 

Hawke follows with the only thing she can say. 

"Do you think Elthina would have wanted this? Especially done in her name?" She asks, and Sebastian almost lunges forward, but finds that he can't without injuring himself further. 

"You didn't know her!" He shouts instead. 

"No, but you did.” Hawke tells him. "So tell me the truth! Would she have wanted you to destroy the city she refused to abandon?" 

Sebastian opens his mouth to answer but no words come out. He closes it and opens it again. Finally, avoiding her gaze, he stares at the floor. The anger that coiled his body vanishes and he slumps into himself, leaving him to kneel before her like a brother in the Chantry. 

Her elbow creaks somewhat unpleasantly when she relaxes the bowstring, holds the arrow softly between her fingertips, and lowers the weapon. Hawke lets her head fall back into her neck and focuses her eyes on the open sky above them. Dawn is approaching slowly. She throws away the arrow and lets her finger stroke across the carved wood of the bow. Not his grandfather's, she thinks and snaps the bow over her knee. Hawke lets the pieces drop to her feet. It's a terrible ending to their story. 

She looks across the battlefield, the corpses and the wounded but most of all her friends, her family. They have come closer, having tucked away their weapons and watched the scene played before them. 

"Aveline?" Hawke asks with a weight in her voice that she hopes speaks for herself. 

The guard captain has her sword in its sheath but her shield still strapped to her arm and Hawke knows her to be deadly with either. She stares at Sebastian kneeling for the longest time before she shakes her head. Her hair is loose around her face, her red band missing and she is just as stone faced as she was when Wesley fell to her own blade. 

"Donnic died of his wounds." Aveline says. "He deserves better than to have his memory soiled by me." 

Hawke nods and meets eyes with Varric. He gives her a nod back and then searches for the Inquisitor among the soldiers. 

Adaar marches over, Cassandra at one side and the Iron Bull at the other and three of her own soldiers who clap Sebastian in irons without another word. They all watch him escorted away. She doesn't know what they will do to him, or what the future holds for him and she still has to convince herself that she doesn't care about either of those things. 

"Thank you." Hawke tells the Inquisitor, oddly grave even to her own ears. It's been a strange day for everyone. 

"Anything for a friend," Adaar replies with a smile at Varric, who returns it.

"Right." She can't help but sound a little bitter, even if the sentiment is earnest. 

It's Merrill who breaks the awkward silence Hawke has cursed them with. "Oh, Lethallin!" She shouts and tackles Hawke in an embrace that nearly makes her fall. Her legs are weak and tired from battle and the lack of training due to her imprisonment but still returns the hug wholeheartedly. 

"Do you mind?" Hawke asks when Merrill lets go off her and shows her the cuffs around her wrists. 

"Oh, of course!" She says and lays her tiny hands around the left cuff. 

A flash and the metal splits open, taking some of Hawke's skin with it. The burns must have healed against the metal. She hisses at the pain and Merrill flinches back. 

"Sorry, sorry." She mutters and quickly frees Hawke of the other one. The pain masks her relief a bit but her arms are glad for the loss of weight and fall to her sides. 

"So that was something." Hawke says.

And the fight is won. 

The Inquisition forces almost immediately start with the clean up, just after the rest of the Starkhaven army surrenders, pilling all the bodies in one corner, setting up camp for the injured and the exhausted. It's too busy for Hawke, who is used to letting the bodies rot where they may and go for drinks instead. She leaves the clean up to the professionals and avoids the medics for a little while longer, finding her way back onto her gibbet instead. 

With her legs dangling, she sits down at the edge and watches everyone run around with an unnatural tranquillity. Her whole body aches, there are cuts and bruises that she will only really feel tomorrow and her stomach starts rumbling in hunger. But right at this moment, she is content just to sit on the gibbet she almost died on a mere few hours ago. It feels closer to an eternity ago. 

She recognizes Varric’s steps approaching behind her before he sits down next to her. He didn't give Hawke much of a head start before following her. 

"Home sweet home," She says and leans against his side when he sits down. 

"Doesn't feel quite like that anymore." Varric replies, and rests his head on top of hers. 

"I thought that was just me." Hawke admits quietly. Adaar is giving orders to Cullen, who shouts them out at their troops, Bull is carrying someone to the Healers and Cassandra talking in low tones with Leliana. She wonders what will happen to Kirkwall now. Once a slaver city, then under Templar rule, then occupied by hostile forces. Viscount Bran is long dead, although he supposedly met a better end then his predecessor. 

"No." Varric says and lays one arm around her, stroking her aching arm. She is going to be sore all over in the days to come. 

"So what now?" She asks. 

There are always the Wardens at Weisshaupt, whom she had left in her sisters’ capable hands. Or she could finally visit Charade like she promised in that one letter Hawke had managed to send before this whole mess. 

"I heard Antiva is nice this time of the year." Varric offers.

Isabela's hands sneak around Hawke's middle, making her jump only a little as Isabela settles them on her breasts and puts her chin on Hawke's shoulder. 

"I heard Antiva? I just happen to have business in that area." She says and smirks at them both.

"What a coincidence!" Hawke says with faked surprise. 

"Ohh, can I come?" Merrill asks, clapping her hands in excitement. "I've never been to Antiva. I hear it's quite lovely." 

"Wine and assassins. What's not to like?" Aveline joins them with slow steps. Her face is still closed off, but she keeps her voice light. She will grieve in her own time and they all know how to pretend on her behalf. Fenris follows her closely, a steady presence at her side. 

"Fenris, there'll be wine! You like wine, right?" Merrill tells him and he hides a smile behind a scowl. 

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shares a long look with Aveline. "Do you leave me a choice?" He asks and a hint of a smirk breaks though his mask. 

It seems they are all done being separated for now. Hawke can't complain. 

"Sounds like a plan." Varric says and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta vaguelyreferential <3


End file.
